Greed and Pride
by Blood Thirsty Me
Summary: The two most powerful men of Albion have become quite good pals after Logan's execution.  Though, up-coming circumstances demand choices...and choices can be quite painful.  PrinceXOCXReaver.
1. Unsuspecting Alignment

Greed and Pride

**Summary:**** The two most powerful men of Albion have become quite good pals after Logan's execution. Though, up-coming circumstances demand choices...and choices can be quite painful. PrinceXOCXReaver.**

**Author's Note:**** I have seen a lot of FemSparrow/PrincessXReaver fan fictions...but not too many fan fictions with a male hero in it. Granted, there are some that are out there that do have a male Sparrow and Prince as the main character, but there aren't a lot. So, it made me want to write one with a male Hero! Plus, I threw in an OC, which I also don't see a lot of...then again, I suppose the Princess/Prince/Sparrow characters would fall under some form of "OC" category...I think :/ Just to clear the tension, the OC is not a Mary Sue and not some "hidden Hero". She has her flaws, which will be quite obvious when she's introduced in later chapters, and is definitely not a "pretty-pretty-princess".**

**Anyway, please enjoy this! :3 Reviews are appreciated and loved~!**

**Edit:**

**DISCLAIMER:**** In this story, there will be chapters that have massive amounts of violence/gore/blood, rape, sex, orgies, abuse, and strong language. Sorry if any of this offends you ^_^; but I like to write about the darker side of life. I will put a warning about what each chapter will hold and will warn you if any of the sexual scenes go into detail or if they cut off when someone's all naked. **

**Sorry I forgot to put that up there when this was first publish D: It completely slipped my mind. **

**Anyway, this story will have...Rape with no details on the sex. **

**

* * *

**

Chapter One: An Unsuspecting Alignment

Logan was dead. In his place ruled Johnathan, youngest son of Albion's first Hero Queen. The young king had made many promises on the path to overthrowing his brother, and he did not plan on fulfilling any of them. Johnathan had never intended on upholding his word in the first place; he had only signed the contracts so he could have the army he had desperately needed to get rid of Logan.

When his older brother had told the whole court about the impending Darkness that was coming to Albion, Johnathan knew he could not spend the kingdom's wealth on every proposal brought up; then again, he did not plan on spending much of the wealth at all, regardless of the approaching Darkness. The only two things he had spent the kingdom's money on were the guards' budget, since fighting bandits every mile got so _boring_,and to remove the drinking limit, for obvious reasons.

Needless to say, the young King's choices had made Reaver a richer man. And when Reaver gets more money he becomes a _very _happy man.

So happy, in fact, that he paid a visit to Bowerstone Castle on his own accord with no intentions of business.

"Your majesty, _please _listen to me!" Walter pleaded, bracing himself on a table littered with books and journals. "You cannot continue to act like this! The year is almost out and most of Albion is doubting you as a King!"

Johnathan, who was sitting comfortably in a very luxurious chair, stared at his mentor with dark eyes. "Then let them doubt."

The older man watched, with disbelief on his face, as the King stood up. "Surely you have some underlying plan, Johnathan."

The King's black eyes seemed to glow from beneath his shaggy red bangs. Once those eyes had been green and full of life; now they were dark pits that only showed the tip the young man's lack of morality.

"I don't," Johnathan admitted, making his way slowly and casually to his mentor. "They may doubt me now, but once the Darkness has been defeated, the people will _celebrate _my name!" He clasped Walter by his giant shoulders and stared at the older man's face. It looked so weary, so tired ever since they had left Aurora. The King's mind felt the same way, and he knew the only way to rid them both of this exhaustion was to destroy the Crawler and its 'children' for good. "You and I know what this thing can do to the kingdom. If I let our defenses down, the number of graves will be far greater than the number of living! If I cannot keep Albion's army fed and growing, then there will be no Albion left to fight for!"

Walter opened his mouth, probably to try to convince the king that there was a better way to save Albion's people, but the doors to the War Room opened quite violently.

"My, what a sorry day to spend sulking around!" Reaver waltzed in, wearing his typical white coat and trousers, and dark top hat. In one gloved hand was his walking stick and in the other was a large bottle of what appeared to be wine.

Hobson followed in as quickly as his short legs could carry him, huffing along the way. "I-I'm sorry, Your Majesty! H-he com...pletely ignored the guards...and myself...I told him...y-you were busy." The butler took quick breaths, trying to calm his pounding heart and throbbing lungs.

The King did not look away from the man in white. Even though he had agreed with all of Reaver's proposals, he still did not trust the man. Forcing two souls to fight for their lives in an arena might not be the worst thing the head of Bowerstone Industrial was capable of. And that bottle of wine might be his newest weapon.

With the rise of the King's hand, Hobson took a deep breath and stood up straight. Black eyes never left the blue devious ones that were looking back at him, "You may leave now, Hobson." The pudgy butler bowed before leaving the War Room, closing the double doors quietly on his way out. Johnathan did not let his unexpected guest get a gleeful word in, "What are you doing here? In case you don't know, or can't remember, I have a war to plan for."

"Straight to business, how admirable," Reaver chuckled, leaning casually on his staff. "Well, seeing as how being a king didn't work out too well for your brother, I thought I would see if you were doing any better."

Just the mention of Logan made Johnathan's skin crawl and jaw tighten. It took most of his will power to not holler at this arrogant man. "And...is my performance up to par with your standards?"

"So far, yes." The man strolled over to the table Walter was at and pushed the books and papers aside to make room for the wine bottle. "Though, perhaps if you took a break for a few hours, you wouldn't look so tired."

"This is ridiculous!" Walter grumbled quite loudly. "The King has too many problems to solve and too many battles to prepare for. Leave now or I will have the guards escort you out!"

Reaver scoffed and faced the old soldier, "I am not asking for His Majesty to blow off the next two weeks. I'm merely asking that he spends a few hours enjoying some fine wine."

The soldier shook his head and looked about ready to punch that smug look off Reaver's face; he probably would have too had Johnathan not spoken up. "How do I know you haven't poisoned it?"

For a moment, the two men locked eyes and a type of understanding passed between them. Reaver might be a greedy bastard, but he would not want the responsibility that came with being a King. And though Johnathan took great pride in being Albion's Hero King, he enjoyed doing whatever his mind and body felt like doing.

Without a word, the head of Bowerstone Industrial looked around the room until he found three glasses. After opening the bottle of aged alcohol, he only filled one glass with its red-violet contents. With only a few large gulps, Reaver drank every drop of wine in his glass. He stood still, staring at Albion's King. Very slowly, the two men smiled from ear-to-ear and soon, Johnathan began to laugh. The bottle had been unopened, until recently, and the man who had offered it took the first drink. It was an odd way to form trust, but stranger things have happened enough for Johnathan to overlook it.

"Alright," the King grinned after his laughter had subsided, "I'll take a small break."

Reaver bowed his head, "An excellent decision, Your Majesty." As he poured a glass for the King, the man glanced at Walter's infuriated face and asked in a mocking tone, "Would you like some too?"

"Absolutely not!" Walter hollered before turning to the young King, "Your Majesty, you cannot let yourself become distracted like this! Not when there are more important matters to attend to!"

"You know, Logan never did go out much," Reaver spoke absently and handed Johnathan a full glass. "In fact, I don't think he went out at all. He always locked himself away in some part of the castle, stressing over contracts, armies, and all these life-changing decisions. No matter how many times I invited him to my parties, he never showed up."

Johnathan smirked through his glass. "I don't blame him, considering you had bloody _balverines _at your last party." He downed a mouthful of wine and took pleasure in the slight burn in his throat. It had been too long since he had indulged in such a luxury; he simply hadn't the time to go out and buy a few bottles from the tavern lately.

The business man ignored the King's statement and continued, "My point is, if you keep working yourself like this, without a simple break or two, you'll drive yourself mad. Just take a look at my workers! I work them to the bone and I've had to fire a good handful of them for having gone completely insane."

Walter shook his head at Reaver's argument and turned to the King, "Your Majesty..." He tried to plead, but he could tell that the young man was already hooked. With a final glare at Reaver, the soldier grumbled, "Very well. I will return when you summon for me, Your Highness." The older man stormed out, making sure to slam the door when he left the room.

"Well," Reaver started, "isn't he a bit snippy."

"He'll get over it," Johnathan downed the rest of his glass before filling it back up. If Walter had been able to get over Johnathan's first murder, he could certainly get over this.

Between the two of them, they emptied the entire bottle within the hour. Needless to say, the alcohol caused Johnathan to act a little intoxicated. Luckily for him, Reaver made sure he did not leave the room to embarrass himself in public.

In fact, Reaver was doing his best to hold the young man back by the belt of his trousers. "You shouldn't go outside the room like this, Your Majesty," Reaver said through a grin and laugh; not even he was immune to the wine's side effects. "You could fall down the stairs."

"Stairs. Bah! I can...take 'em," It was then that Johnathan leaned back in his stance just as his companion pulled his trousers. The young man fell on the businessman, forcing the two to fall on the floor. A drunken laugh came from Johnathan as he sat between Reaver's legs, who was not at all displeased about their position.

"Now would be a good time to have a woman," The young man said as leaned back into Reaver's chest, "Don't you think so? We would be able to have that private party you invited me and Page to." The King tilted his head back far enough to look up at the other man's face.

Reaver's top hat had fallen off, revealing the mass of thick, wavy, black hair. Gloved fingers began to snake their way through the bright red locks of hair that belonged to the King. The red royal face tattoo seemed to glow against his pale complexion; either that, or the glow was from using too much Will magic. "We can still have that private party," Reaver smirked, "except it'll be just the two of us."

Johnathan gave him a confused look before chuckling, "I don't think I'm drunk enough to let that happen."

It was quite amusing to listen to Albion's almighty ruler speak like this. He had first assumed that Johnathan would turn out to be just like Logan:

Serious, cold, slightly insane, and overall no fun at all.

But to see the young man allow himself to get a little drunk and enjoy the current moment made Reaver a bit relieved. He may still have a chance at bedding a royal family member. Not that he had any strong feelings for the lad, but it had always been a personal goal of his the moment Sparrow had passed away. She had been a stubborn bitch and was not one who would allow herself to be raped without a fight. Never before had he met a woman who had flat-out _refused _to sleep with him, the infamous Pirate King, _the _Reaver! So, he figured the next best thing was to bed at least one of her two children; and if he were able to have sex with both, then it would be a bonus!

Of course, now that Logan was dead he would have to settle with the young lad that was nestled between his legs and resting on his chest. If only he had brought some more wine...

"Your Majesty?" A blonde maid peeked into the room, "I heard something fall...are you alright?" As she entered the War Room, looking for her master, Reaver felt the mischievous grin form on the young man's face.

"I'm over here," Johnathan called out to her. She followed his voice obediently and let out an embarrassed gasp when she saw the two on top of each other. Though, the King reached a hand out to her and smiled, "Please, come join us."

The girl hesitated, her fingers playing with the purple fabric of her uniform. "I-I don't think that is very wise, Your Highness..."

He shook his head and beckoned her over with his hand, "It's alright. I won't bite." Reaver watched with an amused grin as the girl walked slowly over to them. Just a bit closer and she would not be able to escape them...

The moment her fingers touched the King's palm, he pulled her down to the floor. She landed clumsily on top of her master, which just added an uncomfortable pressure to the bottom man's groin. Before she could let out words of protest, Johnathan covered her mouth with his lips and began to kiss her savagely. She managed to push away from him enough to gasp for air and speak her piece.

"Please Your Majesty, let me go! I-I don't want to-"

Johnathan groaned in aggravation before rolling his eyes. "Look love, it's quite simple. You either do as I say, no questions asked and with little resistance. Or my friend here," he nodded his head back to Reaver, "can kill you and get away with it. It's your choice."

The grin on Reaver's face grew bigger. It was always nice to know other people used death threats to get their way; especially when it was people of status and power who made the threats. He wrapped an arm around Johnathan's midsection before resting his chin on his shoulder. "You'd better do what he says," Reaver spoke to the frightened maid calmly as he reached for his precious Dragonstomper .48. He pulled the pistol out of its harness before pressing the end of the barrel against her head. "You won't be the first woman I've killed."

Tears dripped from her eyes out of pure fear and her breathing became heavy. The two men could practically hear the adrenaline being pumped through her veins. Very hurriedly, she grasped the King's face with both hands before forcing herself to kiss him. With a satisfied smile, Reaver put the gun away and watched as the two began the foreplay to their private party.

* * *

Johnathan awoke to movement in his bed. Still exhausted from last night's three-way, he only managed to open one eye to see what was going on. The blonde maid was hurrying to put her purple outfit back on while trying not to let her sobs be too loud. The young man grinned to himself in pride. He had never had sex with a virgin before until last night. He laid still, both eyes closed, and just drifted in and out of sleep. Last night had been quite good and would have been better if the damn girl had not cried so much. Luckily for him, no one had interrupted their fun; then again if anyone had, he would have just borrowed Reaver's pistol and kill the intruder. Or invite them to join. Either way, he would have had fun doing it.

Another body shifted in the bed before jolting upright. The sudden movement made Johnathan's eyes pop wide open, only to see Reaver sitting up and tossing the blankets off of him. The young man was still a little shocked to see another man's naked body, but he quickly got over it when he saw what had disturbed the other man's sleep. There was a large blood stain on the white satin cotton sheets, which undoubtedly had been the result of the maid's loss of virginity.

The businessman man let out a sigh and rubbed the side of his face, "I almost forgot that that's what happens when you sleep with a virgin. They always leave behind such a mess..."

Johnathan glared at the stain before turning to Reaver, "We should do something like that more often."

The other man made a humming noise, acknowledging that he had heard the words, and began to put his clothes back on whenever he found the appropriate article. "Oh yes. Though, seeing as how we're both going to be busy men for the next two weeks, our visits may have to be short."

"I'm alright with that," Johnathan mumbled as he stretched out on his bed, making sure to avoid the blood.

"Though," Reaver added and poked the young King's side with his staff, the cold metal making the naked man twitch away from it. "You will have to visit me from time-to-time. It wouldn't be quite fair if I'm the one who has to do all the traveling. And you know those guards are no good at fighting off balverines when they invade Millfield. No matter how many of those monsters I kill there's always one that manages to rip my clothes..." He began to ramble idly about how he hated to spend money on mending his favorite clothes, stopping only when he was fully dressed. Johnathan was still in bed, still naked, and still tired even when Reaver retrieved his top hat from the War Room. "Well, tatty-bye little boy. I look forward to our next meeting."

The King would have shot a glare at the businessman had he not been so lazy at the time. An hour must have gone by before Rascal, the Border Collie, began to lick at the man's hand. With an aggravated grumbled, the King forced himself out of bed and proceeded to put on his scattered clothes. Once that was done, he set out to search for the maid he had had fun with, whom he found scrubbing the floor by a decorative suit of armor.

He kicked at her foot to get her attention. The moment she recognized him, her face became red and her limbs shook as she stood up. "My Lord," she managed a small curtsy, her eyes never looking at him.

"You made a mess in my bed," Johnathan stated simply, "clean it up. And make sure you get _all_ of the stains out."

"Yes, My Lord," she mumbled.

Without another word, he turned on his heels and walked away, ignoring the choked sobs that came from the blonde.

In two weeks, he would have been Albion's King for one year. In two weeks, he would have to face the Darkness and the Crawler. In two weeks, Reaver would become a valuable business partner.


	2. A Night to Forget

Chapter Two: One Night to Forget

**Author's Note:**** Ooooh, this chapter is so very saaaucyyy~ I had a little trouble figuring out what would happen and how Johnathan and Reaver would properly react; but, hopefully, I did a good job. Also, I know that, in the ****game****, Reaver abandons his mansion after the Masquerade Quest; at least every time we go in there, he's never there. But for plot purposes, the mansion is only one of Reaver's homes that he stays in when he's in the neighborhood. **

**And, not gonna lie, I had some trouble writing out the sexy parts. Not because it was awkward but...I just couldn't stop laughing. Immature? Yes. But names for genitalia are just so damn hilarious. Like bosom. Bosom is a funny word. Same with pecker. **

**Critiques/Reviews are greatly appreciated and loved~! If any of you have any suggestions on how to keep any canon characters in-character (for now it's just Reaver, Walter and Jasper...but more will come, I promise!) please do not hesitate to say so! Or if you find that someone's acting a bit out-of-character, please say so and I will try to improve it!**

**Please enjoy~!**

**DISCLAIMER:**** This chapter will contain one scene of soft-core blood/violence/gore and will have very small amounts of blood later on. There will also be two scenes of consensual sex, both of which will be back-to-back with one another. One will be descriptive, while the second cuts off before anyone whips it out. **

**

* * *

**

After Reaver's little visit to Bowerstone Castle, the King was bombarded with work. Papers had to be signed, armies had to be assembled, taxes had to be forced from the hands of paupers, and rumors had to be dispelled. Albion's people had grown skeptical of this new threat. After all, if this "Darkness" was so evil and powerful, then why hadn't Aurora fallen already? Some of the nobles even began to believe that the Darkness was some hoax imagined by the King in order to give him a "proper excuse" to set the taxes so high.

When news of these rumors had reached Johnathan's ears, he went into a fury.

"HOW DARE THEY!" The King hollered, slamming his fists onto a table. The poor furniture splintered and groaned from the abuse. "HOW DARE THEY THINK THE DARKNESS IS A FALSE DANGER!" His hands were clenched into tight fists. Rage began to channel into his Will, for the orb on his gauntlet began to glow with the colors of its respective spell. How his rage demanded him to abandon Albion and leave its people at the mercy of this "fake" threat! Then, when there would only a few thousand left, they would look for him and beg for forgiveness. The people would have to grovel at his feet before he would decide to save their sorry asses.

A giant hand grabbed his shoulder comfortingly, followed by Walter's gruff voice, "Do not worry about them, Your Majesty. Their gossip will be proven false when _It_ comes."

Despite Walter's fatherly comfort, Johnathan still felt troubled. It was not just the rumors that made him uneasy, but the fact that he did not know the exact time and day the Darkness would descend. No matter how many times he had called out to Theresa in his sleep, she never appeared. It was a no wonder Logan had been unable to rule the kingdom. Their mother's adviser never showed up when needed the most! If Johnathan just knew when _It_ would attack his mind could be somewhat eased.

Hours went by and soon, he sat alone in the War Room, staring blankly at suggested war plans. All he wanted was to forget about the responsibilities that being King forced upon him. For one night he wanted to be free of the heavy crown that rested on his head. He wanted to be Johnathan the man; not Johnathan the King of Albion.

And he knew exactly where to go to fulfill this wish.

After closing his eyes, a sudden rush of cold air attacked his body, seeping into the marrow of his bones. The cold only lasted for a second before it was replaced with the familiar warmth of the Sanctuary.

"Ah, hello," Jasper greeted him. "I'm assuming all is going well?"

"Yes," Johnathan half-lied, walking quickly to the dressing room. He ignored the fact that Jasper got there before he did and proceeded to change out of his formal attire. Without much thought, the young man put on the practical prince jacket, mercenary trousers and boots. It was nothing fancy, just enough to make people wonder if he was the King or a look-alike.

"Well, don't you look a bit dashing," Jasper commented as he followed his master out of the dressing room and into the armory. "Are you meeting with a lady tonight, Sir?"

"I might be," he answered honestly this time. There were two weapons that had bones and red runes decorating their frames:

A great hammer and a long rifle.

The King grabbed both of them, expertly securing the rifle into its sheath on his back, while the hammer rested on his shoulder. Balverines were sure to give him trouble on his way, and it had been a long time since he had killed the monsters.

Jasper seemed to understand the type of circumstances his master was about to put himself into and merely nodded. "I do hope your adventure proves fruitful, Your Majesty."

A tiny smirk escaped the young man as he walked out to the large map. If all went well, then tonight would turn out to be _very _fruitful indeed. He reached out and touched the little town of Millfield before mumbling its name. Again, the cold air surrounded him and chilled his bones. It lasted longer, but he did not mind once he was met with the fresh night air. It was fairly warm for the night, but that was due to all the machinery that was being operated.

Workers ran back and forth across the streets, completely oblivious of the red-haired man that walked calmly through their workspace. The few who did notice and recognize him either shot angry glares or turned away fearfully. Had he not been on personal business, he would have taught the hateful ones a lesson about respect.

The noise and fire-light dispersed as he journeyed forth to Reaver's mansion, clearing away from the more industrious part of town. The young man was not even sure if the businessman would be home; but at least the night would not be too boring.

Johnathan stopped in his tracks as he stared into the night. On the hill, just yards away from his position, were two balverines. Their yellow eyes glowed in the darkness, more sinister and cunning than a cat's could ever hope to be. They snarled and snapped at one another like two people arguing, not noticing the human, who was pulling out his rifle.

Very quietly, the King aimed his weapon at the closest creature. The dark fur blended in with the night's shadows, forcing him to guess where a fatal shot might be. He exhaled as he pulled the trigger and the rifle cried out. The balverine whined from the sudden pain before its yellow eyes snapped at him. Its snarl was vicious and its eyes were full of fighting spirit.

Regardless, the strangest thing happened.

The second balverine snapped at its partner and began to motion towards the forest. The aggressive one gave the human one last snarl before following its companion to the trees.

Not wanting to let his prey get away, Johnathan chased after the two monsters. He paused on top of the hill they had been on and aimed at the one with the limp. The thunderous cry of the gunshot echoed in the air and a cloud of dirt shot up right next to the creature. It jumped away in surprise, turning its head to snarl at the man before limping away once again.

Their behavior puzzled the King. Normally, any sort of hostile behavior would send a whole pack of balverines charging at him; in fact, just being in their sights was enough to make the creatures attack. To see them run like this was troubling. They had never run from him before, not matter the odds.

As he put away the rifle, Johnathan began to channel the Will within him. The orb on the gauntlet grew brighter until it was alive with an supernatural fire. His blood began to heat up as the magic grew stronger, and soon it felt like he was about to burn from the inside-out. It was then that he shot the fireball at the limping balverine, hitting it dead on.

The creature's fur was ablaze with fire and it shrieked out in agony. It rolled and twitched on the earthy floor in an attempt to extinguish the flame. The second balverine stopped in its tracks and watched as its companion burned. It looked straight at Johnathan, the yellow eyes burning with a feral rage only balverines could experience. The young man stood his ground and glared directly into the beast's eyes, silently challenging it to attack, to avenge its partner's painful death.

The balverine snapped its jaws before sprinting away to the safety of the forest.

Something was wrong and it was frightening the balverines.

In his fury for not having a proper fight, the young man marched over to the flaming beast, which was still howling weakly from the pain, and brought his hammer down upon its head. The skull crunched beneath the weight and the howling was cut off abruptly. Blood and brains scattered in every direction, the metallic stench overpowering the smell of burning fur and flesh. He brought the hammer up and picked the pieces of pink brain off the weapon before continuing towards the mansion.

The lone guard at Reaver's mansion stood at attention and saluted Johnathan the moment he recognized who he was. The red-haired man paused in front of the guard before walking up to him.

"Have your men encountered balverines tonight?" The King asked.

"Yes, Your Majesty," the guard replied with a blank face.

"Did any of the beasts...run away?"

The man let his emotion of relief escape him in a single blink. "Y-yes, Your Majesty. Whole packs of 'em run off even after my men shoot at 'em."

Johnathan stood silent for a moment before nodding, "Thank you. That is all."

"Yes, Your Majesty!" The guard saluted once more before staring out into the night.

Without another word, the young man walked onto Reaver's estate, past the giant statue of the businessman and up to the great double-doors. He tried opening the doors without knocking, hoping to make his visit as unexpected as Reaver's had been, but the doors were locked. A part of him wanted to break the doors down, but to do that would probably make an enemy out of the arrogant man. So he pounded his fist on the material four times. Almost immediately it was opened by a butler.

"Is Reaver here?" Johnathan asked as he pushed past the stammering man. The confetti and unconscious bodies had been cleaned out of the humble abode, making the place seem normal to anyone who did not know what truly goes on inside.

"Um, I-I'm sorry," The butler stammered, looking around nervously, "but Master Reaver is attending to...unfinished business at the moment. H-he may be a while-"

The young man's fingers drifted across the ivory keys of the piano before pressing down on one key, causing a deep chord to roar. "I can wait."

As if on cue, the door on the right opened to reveal none other than the owner of most of Bowerstone's factories. He was dressed in a regular cotton shirt and brown trousers; none of which appeared to be of the highest quality either. To see the man in such casual clothing would have made him seem a bit, well, _normal _had it not been for the little line of blood that streaked across the shirt. In fact, he was wiping his pistol clean of the same substance before noticing he had a visitor.

"So, His Royal Highness finally decides to grace us with his presence," Reaver seemed to mock. "And just as I'm finishing up some business. Aren't you just lucky today?" Before Johnathan could snap at him for his arrogance, the man made his way to the stairs. "Let's talk in a more private setting, shall we?"

After glaring at his back, the King followed until he was next to the man. "That your blood?" He nodded at the little streak on the cotton shirt.

Reaver did not even glance down at it, "Oh no, of course not."

They walked up the carpeted stairs and through the winding halls of the mansion in silence. There were so many closed doors that it made the young man wonder what was hidden behind them; if he had been alone, he would make the attempt. Instead, he continued on until his companion lead him into a bedroom. Immediately, he leaned his rifle and hammer against the wall before taking off the fire gauntlet, tossing it somewhere next to the other two weapons. The possibility of anything sexual happening in the room did not occur to Johnathan, even as he took a seat on the large bed.

Tonight, he just wanted to forget and let it all go.

Reaver handed him a glass full of some sort of alcohol, which he did not hesitate in taking before gulping down its contents. The bitterness lingered on his tongue, the liquid burned his throat nicely, and his mind began to feel a little dizzy. Already the night was starting out well.

"How goes the war?" Reaver tried to make casual conversation. Not that he really cared about what the King had to say, but bedding a man was a lot like bedding a woman. You had to make them trust you; and, for some reason, lending an open ear was usually the easiest way to earn that trust.

The young man placed his glass on the floor before rubbing his face. "It hasn't started yet. Though, we may need you on the front line if you're as good with a gun as people say you are."

A little huff came from the businessman as he sat down next to the King. "I am better than what the rumors say. However, is that what you came here for? To recruit me into your little army?"

"No," Johnathan laid back and stretched himself on the comfortable furniture. This bed was better than the one he slept in at the palace. Hard to believe, considering his own bed felt like it had been a cloud at one point. "I came here to forget about that damn invasion. I don't want someone breathing down my neck and double-checking my plans like I'm some ignorant child." He closed his eyes for a moment, reveling in the room's calmness. He remembered how carefree he had been as a Prince, while his older brother struggled with the weight of the world. Perhaps he should have kept Logan alive so that they could both share the burden?

As he was about to drift off into a nice sleep, Johnathan felt Reaver adjust his weight, probably to grab a drink for himself. Something warm hovered over his face for a moment before a set of lips began to caress his own. Johnathan's first reaction was to set the man's hair on fire, but without the gauntlet on, it was nothing but a fantasy. So he just refused to move his mouth, no matter how much Reaver's tempted him to.

The businessman pulled away and stared quizzically at him, "Not one for men, are you?"

"I never really found out," The young man admitted. It wasn't that he was not attracted to men, for there had been a few times on his travels where he found himself gawking at a blacksmith like one would gawk at a bar-maid's breasts; he had just never slept with one. The concept was both exciting and frightening, but in the end, fear would make him turn down the opportunities.

Reaver sat up, thinking of what he could do. He could always force the young man into submission, but that could prove to be quite a distasteful decision in the future. After all, this was the King of Albion and he had the power to completely ruin Reaver Industries.

An idea formed in his head, making him grin victoriously as he stood up. "Wait here," he told the King before opening the bedroom door to begin his search. It did not take him long to find the maid he had hoped to find first. "Erika," he called out. When her eyes focused on him, he motioned for her to follow, which she did without hesitation. They stopped in front of the bedroom door and the man took the opportunity to explain her duty. "Get him to relax. Open up his shirt if you must, but no further than that. I want to be able to play with him as much as possible."

"Yes Sir," the girl bowed her head. Confident in her skills, the businessman entered the room and made his way to other side of the bed.

Erika bowed her head and curtsied to Johnathan, acknowledging his status, before her fingers began to untie the lacing of her outer corset. A suggestive cough from her master made her stop before realizing her mistake; the more she exposed herself, the more tempted the King would be to spend time on her.

"Could you move to the middle of the bed please, Your Majesty?" She requested softly.

For a moment Johnathan stared at her. Her appearance was so bland that he could have mistaken her for a malnourished factory worker if he had met her on the streets. But as he has learned from experience, it's what the woman could provide that really matters; and seeing as how she was one of Reaver's employees, she must be good at providing.

After kicking off his shoes, Johnathan sat in the middle of the bed, waiting for the girl to join. Rough hands began to massage his shoulders, the muscles tensing up when he realized whose hands they were.

"Relax," Erika grinned, her face inches away from the King's. "No one's going to hurt you tonight." Her little mouth barely covered his as she began to coat his lips with chaste kisses. It took a while for Johnathan to finally give in and force his tongue into her mouth. She let out a muffled squeak of surprise but did not try to push him off. The sensation of the girl's little tongue darting in and out of his mouth mixed with Reaver's hands pushing against his tense muscles made the young man groan.

It was going to be a _very _good night.

The grin on Reaver's face grew when he heard the King groan. His plan to bring in a female distraction was working, and if all continued to go well, it would end with the young man bending to his will. Very slowly, he moved his hands down the red-head's sides, doing his best not to tickle him in a 'ha-ha' way. He did not venture any further until the young man's mouth had begun to attack Erika's neck. Structured abdominal muscles tensed and relaxed beneath his expert fingers. For a King, he had a nice body and did not seem to be one who would let such a beauty go to waste easily.

So many things were happening to Johnathan's body and it was making his pants become very uncomfortable. He gulped nervously when he felt Reaver's hand rub up and down his abdomen. It felt so nice to have those hands roam over him...

A delightful shudder coursed through his body when he felt the businessman's warm tongue glide across the length of his neck. In a haze of lust, the King broke away from the girl's collar bone and turned his head to capture the other man's mouth. Their teeth clashed for a moment until they were finally content with their tongue wrestling.

Erika sat back and watched as the two men kissed each other wantonly. The whole situation had excited her, but she restrained her hands from pleasuring herself. Tonight, her job was to make sure the King was comfortable enough for her master to have his way with him. The two men finally parted long enough for the King to begin nipping shyly at her master's jawline and neck. The sensation made the businessman's breath hitch and grin widen. Very carefully, the girl got off the bed and stood still in case her service was needed later.

She watched her master take the King's top off before pushing him down on his back in order to toy with him more. The young man shuddered as the experienced hands rubbed up and down his sides. He took in a quick breath when the other man's finger flicked at a dark nipple. Lips made their way down his chest, leaving kisses and the occasional lick along the way. It was not until Reaver had reach the navel did the young man start to panic.

"Wh-what're you going to do?" Johnathan breathed. It was hard to think through the burning lust his body was feeling. Everything felt so warm and wonderful because of Reaver's hands and mouth. He did not want the sensations to stop, but what else was left for them to do? They were both men, so there was no way they could have proper sex...right?

"Don't worry, Your Majesty," Erika sat on the edge of the bed and began to pet his red hair in a motherly fashion. "There will be no pain tonight."

Her words were strangely comforting to Johnathan. And the way she stroked his hair just seemed to add to the reassurance. His attention was returned to Reaver when he felt the air attack his hardened penis. Words turned into a surprised groan when he felt lips wrap around the tip.

The businessman teased the King first, only licking and sucking on the tip. He could see the young man's body tense up in pleasure, the beads of sweat glistening in the fire light of the candelabras. It was such an erotic sight to see Albion's ruler whimper and writhe beneath his touch. The knowledge gave Reaver a sense of power that he was starting to enjoy. If these late night meetings continued, he could easily use them to sway the King in any future decisions that may prove advantageous to his company.

As soon as Reaver took most of the King's hard appendage in his mouth, the groans became louder and his hips bucked lightly. It did not surprise the businessman that his companion was so close to losing himself; he had had hundreds of years to practice after all. Though, he was not expecting the young man to climax so quickly. He hated it when men released their seed in his mouth; the thick substance was always too salty for him to ever get used to.

Immediately, Erika got up and grabbed two glasses, handing one to her master when he had pulled his mouth away from the King's limp manhood. He spat the semen into the the empty cup before trading it for one full of gin, which he swallowed slowly so that it would get rid of any saltiness left behind. He stared at the shirtless man in disappointment, whose chest rose slowly with each calm breath. He had been expecting for the fun to last at least long enough for him to climax too. The young man was lucky he was Albion's King; otherwise, Reaver would have forced him to finish what he had started.

Reaver held his empty glass out, which the maid took before asking, "Do you need my assistance, Sir?"

The man quickly examined her before determining her appearance unappealing for tonight. The bulge in his pants was started by a man and would have to be relieved by a man. "Not from you, no. Tell one of the butler's to come here and I'll have him finish this. And wash that glass out thoroughly," He nodded at the cup that held the King's seed.

The girl bowed her head, "Yes, Master Reaver." She left with the with the dirty glass, leaving Reaver to stare at the young man on his bed.

The King's body was well sculpted and his arms looked very strong. Then again, they would have to be if he carried around a hammer. At least he was pleasing to look at, unlike that female Hero who had carried the same type of weapon many years ago. He could not get over how quickly Johnathan had climaxed and at how fast he had fallen asleep. Either this had been the boy's first time with a man, or he had been _that _good.

A brown-haired man poked his head into the bedroom, "Erika said you wanted to see me, Master Reaver?"

Reaver grinned at the man. The butler used to be a prostitute, but the businessman thought his talents were just too good to share with other people. Of course, the ex-hooker had no clue that his master knew about his hidden talents, which made it all the better that Erika had sent him up.

"I have a bit of a problem that I need you to fix," Reaver spoke, his voice laced with desire.

The butler's experienced ears picked up on what he meant and nodded. "I'll help you right away, Sir."

* * *

"_The Children are hungry! The Children need to feed! The Guardian will protect the Children! There is nothing you can do to stop it!" _

_He was lost in that damned cave. Walter and Rascal were nowhere to be found. He felt so alone as the darkness seemed to compress against him. How childish of him to think he could defeat It when evil had consumed his heart. _

_"Soon, Albion shall fall! The Guardian will rise! No one can stop it! The Children are hungry!"_

_Pure light blinded his vision. It hurt to open his eyes, but he got used to it. The Darkness and Its hideous voice were gone. He turned around only to come face-to-face with the Crawler's disgusting face._

_"THE CHILDREN SHALL FEAST UPON YOUR ROTTING SOUL!"_

_And then..._

_Darkness... _


	3. Battle Plans

Chapter Three: Battle Plans

**Author's Note:**** This chapter went along much more smoothly. Probably because I wasn't giggling like a pubescent little boy in sex-ed class. Oh well, what can ya do? **

**But thank you everybody for your reviews! I really do appreciate all of them! Hopefully you'll keep enjoying this story!**

**No disclaimer today folks. This is a pretty clean chapter. Unless you hate hints of BenXPage. **

**

* * *

**

_"THE CHILDREN SHALL FEAST UPON YOUR ROTTING SOUL!"_

Johnathan jolted upright in the strange bed. His mind did not even try to acknowledge that he was not in the palace as his heart pounded hard against its prison. The Darkness would arrive soon...so very soon. He did not know why the deepest parts of his gut instincts told him that, especially since the nightmare held very little prophetic significance; but it was such an overwhelming feeling. He couldn't stand it! He had to return to the castle _immediately_!

Not being the least bit considerate about his sleeping companion, the young man fumbled around the dark room, searching frantically for his shirt and weapons. It was maddening not knowing where anything was. He even stubbed his toe against the leg of some piece of furniture, making him hiss out a loud curse.

"Usually _I'm _the one who leaves in such a hurry," A familiar voice murmured tiredly from the darkness.

The King found his shirt and threw it on quickly. "_It's _coming and _It'll _be here soon."

"How soon?"

"I'm not sure," He missed the sheath a couple of times before finally securing his rifle. "But _It's _not slowing down." Once the fire gauntlet and hammer had been collected, the young man turned to his awakening host. "I did not come here to recruit you. But the battle could easily be won with your skills. Especially if the Crawler decides to fight."

There was no immediate response, but one did, eventually, come from the businessman. "If I didn't know any better, I'd say you're afraid of this...thing."

Anger and pride made Johnathan's hands ball up into fists. Not even he wanted to admit to himself that he was afraid. But those voices...that dreadful feeling of being so alone that it was suffocating...it had been an experience that had scarred him. "_It _almost killed Walter," He grumbled.

_It almost killed me. _A little voice in Johnathan's head added silently.

"I can't make any promises," Reaver groaned as he stretched his tired limbs. "I am a very busy man and running a monopoly is harder than it looks." His eyes searched for the King, but the young man had disappeared. He thought nothing of it and decided to prepare for the day, now that he was awake.

Being in a war would seem like fun had the opponent been human. He could deal with things made of flesh and blood, but fighting beings with little to no physical form were another story. Such creatures had a way of making him shiver with dread. A perfect example was the three fellows of the Shadow Court, whom he had to pay a visit to very soon.

In fact, he would make his way to their little clubhouse later on today. "What a convenient way to skip out on a war," Reaver smirked proudly before going to his desk to begin a letter for the mighty King.

* * *

The castle's staff were in a bit of an uproar as they tried to find their King. Not that anyone was surprised that he had left; being a Hero often demanded their master to leave the premise for days, but Walter _needed_ to speak with him. And the staff knew better than to question the old soldier when frustration was apparent in his orders.

Walter loved Johnathan like the son he never had; even when the young King had been a little babe who could barely keep his own head up. All of those stories he had read to him, all of the combat training he had coached him through had been done out of pure fatherly-affection. He had raised Johnathan himself when the sickness overtook Queen Sparrow and her beloved husband, while the nobles overtook Logan's upbringing. It had been a dreadful sight to see the little boy cry when they had taken his older brother away for schooling. The only thing that had cheered him up had been the stories of his mother's heroic adventures and of her victories in the legendary Crucible. Of course, Walter had purposefully neglected to mention some of Sparrow's more...darker deeds, but the child had been content when the old man had to re-tell adventures.

_"Will you teach me to be a Hero, Walter?"_

Johnathan had been such an innocent and sweet lad then. His eyes had always been wide, the green orbs taking in everything they saw as if the world were one big storybook. And when he had saved Elise from an all-too-rowdy boy, young love shone in their eyes like stars in a moonless night sky.

It was not until Logan had executed both Elise and the ringleaders that insanity had begun to twinkle in the young man's eyes.

At first, Walter had ignored it. After all, it had been Elise, Johnathan's childhood sweetheart, who had been killed. It was only natural for the young Prince to have felt enraged at his older brother. Walter's concern for the lad had only increased when he had found out about the murder of a quarreling noble couple.

_"I killed them. They just wouldn't shut up! And they kept telling me what to do and what not to do...I couldn't stand their voices anymore!"_

Luckily, no one had found out Johnathan had killed them. And after a very long speech over a plate of smoked mutton, Walter felt he had driven away the lad's insanity. Sure the news had shocked, angered, and saddened the old soldier; but his mind had convinced him that the young man had just taken all the built up anger for Logan out on those poor sods.

For a long time, Walter had believed that. It was not until they had left Aurora did he see the insanity return in the young man's eyes.

They had been making their way towards the castle. Logan's soldiers had been everywhere, their rifles crackling as triggers were pulled. They had lost a lot of men, but Walter had seen Johnathan press onward, even when a bullet had grazed across arm. The young man had smacked a soldier's head off with one swing of that hammer. What would have been trauma in a normal man's eyes was replaced with blood lust in Johnathan's. It had been then that Walter realized the innocent little boy had been overshadowed by this red-haired madman.

When they had found Logan, Walter had to restrain Johnathan from firing at the King.

_"Why did you stop me!"_

_"That's your _brother_, Johnathan! The man deserves a trial!"_

Even after Logan had confessed why he had been such a bad King, Johnathan still had him executed.

Walter sighed and shook his head. His poor boy, his poor Johnathan, was starting to become Logan. Sometimes, he even believed the young King had grown worse than his deceased brother. It was such a burden, knowing that he had failed in raising Johnathan properly.

Would Sparrow be proud of her son if she were here now?

And when Reaver had shown up unexpectedly that night, tempting Johnathan with alcohol; it had made Walter loathe the businessman even more. Reaver was the last person Johnathan should ever consort with!

Walter slammed his fist on the railing. Avo damn him if he allowed Reaver to poison the young King's mind any further!

"WALTER!" Johnathan's voice boomed through the corridors of the castle, making the old man jump from his thoughts. The young man ran up the stairs, meeting his mentor at the top. He grabbed the arm of a passing servant, "Find Ben Finn and bring him to me immediately. Walter and I will be in the War Room."

The servant nodded his head quickly, rushing away as soon as he was released. Walter followed the young King as he strode quickly to the War Room, closing all of the doors the moment they entered.

They needed privacy, absolute privacy. _It _might be listening. _It _might be here now.

Walter could see the young man's limbs tense up, trying so hard not to shake. "Johnathan? Are you alright?"

Johnathan gripped the edges of the giant map, staring at the general Bowerstone area. "_It'll _be here soon."

Just the mention of the Darkness sent uncomfortable shivers through Walter's body. The sensation made him feel cold and his eyes became sore. He swallowed, "How soon do you think?"

"Soon enough to want to mobilize the troops _now_." He jabbed a finger at the coast, "I want as many ships as we can put in that ocean. They must be in firing-range of the shore. But spread out enough so that if one explodes, it doesn't take out the rest of the fleet."

"That won't be a lot of ships," Walter muttered, "What about the ones the rest of the fleet?"

"Leave them alone. The Darkness will destroy them before they could be used as replacements. As for the crews, give them guns and put them in a platoon."

"And the foot-soldiers?"

Johnathan rapped his fingers against the fake ocean. Dark eyes examined the Bowerstone areas like they used to when the King had been nothing more than a little boy.

"Have some of them in the Old Quarter. I want a large majority in the Market. Separate the rest evenly amongst Industrial. And I want enough troops to be able to escort civilians to the Dweller Camp."

Walter raised an eyebrow at this. "The Dweller Camp? I don't think Sabine would be too kind to the people after what you've done to his home. Even if it they are innocent lives, if _your _soldiers are there he may turn hostile. And even if he did decide to take them in, why there?"

A grin began to spread across Johnathan's face. "_It _will spread to Bowerstone first and the furthest civilization from there is the Dweller Camp. If we're able to defeat the Crawler before the Darkness can spread too far out, the people will be safe in the mountains. And don't worry too much about Sabine. He'll accept the civilians."

It took a few hours before Ben Finn joined their private discussion. Johnathan filled him in on the plan. The blonde nodded and added his suggestions, which the young King made note of, until they got to the end.

"Johnny," Ben started, "it all seems good until you get to the part where Sabine is involved. You're not exactly his favorite person in the world and won't be willing to do you any favors."

The red-haired man grinned, "He won't know it was _me_ who sent the civilians. He'll think it was _you_," he pointed at the blonde, the grin on his face growing bigger.

Ben's eyes widened in surprise and he scoffed. "_Me_? Why me? What difference would it make if _I _did it?"

"Because they trust you," Johnathan explained. "If Sabine knew I sent the civilians to them, he'd turn them down. Maybe even eliminate a few just to spite me. But if he thinks _you _sent them, he might be more willing to accept them. Especially if the soldiers who were escorting them were some of your buddies from the fort. And if Page decided to tag along to vouch for you, the pyromaniac would surely lend a helping hand." He saw the slight flush in Ben's face at the mention of the rebel's name. He had the blonde hooked now. "It'll be easy. When you recruit Page, tell her the civilian evacuation was your idea. That during this meeting, I made no effort whatsoever about finding a safe-spot for Albion's people. Tell the same thing to Sabine if you need to."

It was almost saddening to hear the plan. In order for the King to save his people, he had to pass the glory over to another man. Though Ben felt little sympathy for the red-haired man. If he had not broken so many promises, then he would not be in this type of predicament. Now he had to force his associates to lie for him in order to pull off a strategy.

Ben tapped his foot on the ground in thought before crossing his arms. "Alright," he mumbled, "When should I start?"

"Now."

* * *

Soldiers were starting to march to their assigned placements throughout the city. Their footsteps were audible from the rebel's lair, making a lot of them anxious.

"That bastard's cookin' somethin' up," Bradley muttered as he fiddled with his pistol. "I'm tellin' ya Page, we should 'ave reloca'ed when 'e broke tha' promise."

Page rolled her eyes, "If he wanted us dead, we would be already." Of course, the girl would have made sure to have shot one of his eyes out, or a testicle, if the red-haired tyrant ever decided to show his face in her territory. Never again would she ever trust a member of the royal family.

"Ah, there's my favorite girl!" The familiar voice of the blonde soldier echoed through the sewers.

Page had to fight the smile that pulled at the corners of her mouth, even when she let out an aggravated groan. She hated how that soldier had been able to weasel his way through her rough exterior with those damned blue eyes and unbelievable stories.

Damn him!

Bradley was about to make some snide remark and possibly threaten the soldier, but Page shot him down. "Shouldn't you be marching with the rest of your kind like the good little puppet you are?" She saw his good mood fade from his eyes and it made her feel a little guilty. Again, she scolded herself for feeling so soft. He was nothing more than a soldier; a soldier that she could have fought if Logan had ever found the hideout. In a different lifetime, he could have been the enemy. She could not allow herself to feel anything for him.

Ben whined, "Aw, c'mon Page! I haven't even told you why I'm here and already you give me a snip!"

"Oh, you actually have a reason for being here now?" She mocked.

"Well, besides getting a look at your pretty face, yes." He shot her that charming grin of his and it made her blood boil in more ways than one.

She sighed and shook her head, "What do you want?"

For the first time in her life, she heard a seriousness in his voice. "We've got to get the civilians out of Bowerstone."

"What for?"

"According to Johnny, that Darkness from Aurora will be here soon. That's why," he pointed up at the ceiling, "you're hearing so many platoons lately. That thing has 'im spooked enough to start mobilizing troops before the enemy's even been spotted."

Page scoffed. To her, Johnathan was more of a tyrant than Logan. But what really made her curse his name was that she had trusted him once. She had trusted him the moment they walked away from Reaver's party; she had even been glad to fight by his side when they had taken Logan down. Then he revealed his true nature and she hated it.

Now here was Ben, probably sending orders to them from their new tyrannical bastard of a king.

"Hero" or not, she would not allow herself to do a thing he says!

"If the King has something to tell me, then he should come down here and say it to my face," She snarled.

Ben held up his hands in defense, "Calm down girl, these orders aren't coming from him, they're coming from me." When she gave him a confused look, he explained. "In the War Room, Johnathan didn't say anything about taking the civilians to a safer area. Even when Walter brought it up, he didn't even try to think of something. I guess he figured the people have their own plan of escape."

She was not too surprised at what Ben told her; though, she would have thought that the King would have at least _tried_ to come with a plan for Albion's non-military population. The man must really have a heart as black as his eyes. "Alright Ben. What did you have in mind?"

"I've got a few of my buddies from the fort knocking on doors. They're gonna get as many of the people as they can to start heading to Millfield. We'll gather up the stragglers and meet up with the troops in the Old Quarter. From there, we all go to Millfield and escort the citizens to Sabine."

"What about the ones that are bed-ridden?"

Ben shrugged, "Guess we'll just have to carry 'em."

Page stared at the man in admiration. This was what Albion needed on the throne; a man like Ben Finn.

"Careful Page," the blonde grinned, "if you smile any bigger, I might start to think you're fallin' for me."

A flush rushed to her face and she snapped, "Don't get your hopes up soldier. Now, what will we do with Sabine if he doesn't let us in his camp?"

"I'm sure he'll let us in when we explain ourselves. Even Sabine won't let innocent lives go to the slaughter."

* * *

By the time night had fallen, Bowerstone was empty of all non-military personnel. Even the servants at the castle had been dismissed to go with Ben and Page to the Dweller camp.

Johnathan was sitting by a fire with Walter, waiting impatiently for the Darkness to come.

The old soldier decided to break the silence with a cheerful chuckle, "You know, you look an awful lot like your father but you have your mother's habits."

Had the young man been five years old, he would have been interested to hear another tale about his mother; however, he did decide to let the old man's voice fill the empty air. "How so?" Johnathan asked, still staring into the flickering yellow and orange flames.

"Well, your mother was an impatient one during the civil war. Always pacing around, wondering when the enemy would strike her defenses." Walter chuckled at the fond memory, "You might not be pacing, but I can tell you don't want to sit still."

Johnathan gritted his teeth, "Of course I'm impatient! This isn't an army of flesh and blood, Walter! This thing could destroy Albion with the blink of an eye!"

The good humor in Walter's face faded, "You're right. I'm sorry to offend you, Your Highness."

For minutes, the only sound in the room was the crackling fire. It was beginning to die, so the young man threw a large log into the hungry flames. "Any idea why there are so few heroes left?"

Walter shrugged, "I've heard that they were all wiped out by an angry mob. Apparently most of the heroes were so arrogant and useless that the regular people of Albion were fed up with it."

It was hard to believe that an entire group of heroes were wiped out by an angry mob that had no special power in their arsenal. If he could take out a large group of bandits, then surely a large group of heroes could take on an angry mob.

Without looking at his mentor, Johnathan sighed, "Get some sleep Walter. You may need all of your energy for tomorrow."

Walter nodded, "Of course. The same goes to you, Johnathan. You may be a Hero King, but even you will need rest." And with that, the old soldier left the room.

Tomorrow was another day.


	4. A Game You Should Never Play

Chapter Four: A Game You Should Never Play

**Author's Note:**** Sorry this chapter's short. At first I thought I should just add it in to the previous chapter, but I thought that would make chapter three too long. So a short chapter is what ya get :P. Sorry for the slow posts also. I've been hanging out with my friend for days; but, thankfully, she doesn't mind that I write while she draws/plays video games :3. Such a good friend~**

**Anyway, thank you all for the reviews/critiques! I really do appreciate them all, and it makes me glad to know that there are people out there who enjoy my story! **

**Also, I'll be going back to college very soon so updates may become few-and-far between. But I will definitely continue to work on this fun project whenever I get the chance :3. **

**DISCLAIMER:**** One scene of animal abuse ;_; (really am sorry for that) and servant abuse. **

**

* * *

**

The landscape had changed so much. All color had been erased from the buildings, streets, and even the sky. Miniature sand dunes made their new homes on the gray cobblestone streets of Bowerstone. Soldiers lay dead or fatally wounded, while those still standing were having trouble fighting off the winged shadows and possessed statues.

Ben Finn pounded against the force field that separated him from Walter and Johnathan. The possessed mentor swung his sword at the evading King with the combined power of Walter's strength and the Crawler's ancient experience. Another swing forced the young man to use his hammer to block the blow. The dark blade sliced through the decorative bones, separating the head from the handle. The sudden weight change made Johnathan stumble, giving the possessed Walter enough time to kick him down.

Everything was about to fall. Once the Crawler slays the King, Albion would become consumed by its dreadful darkness. Johnathan could not believe what was happening. Even though they had been prepared, his armies were barely holding out against the Shadows, and now the Crawler had total control of his mentor.

Tactically, it could be easy to kill the old soldier; the Crawler was clumsy with the war-torn body as it tried to keep Walter's will from overpowering its own. Yet, it seemed impossible for the young man to even raise a hand against his attacker. Sparring with Walter was completely different from _actually _fighting him! The old man had been there for Johnathan his whole life.

If Johnathan killed him, he would be destroying the only person he truly had strong feelings for anymore. It would be like killing a father...no, Walter _is _his father, biological or not, and he cannot bring himself to kill him.

The sword plunged downward, aimed to pierce through the King's left eye socket, but it stopped short of a mere few inches. Walter's arm began to shake wildly and his face contorted into a strenuous snarl. "Argh!" He cried out as he fought against the Crawler inside, "No! No!" The young man could hear the suffering in Walter's voice. For a moment, he could see the real Walter behind the darkened eyes as he pleaded, "Don't hold back! Don't...I'm ready."

Walter wanted to die and only Johnathan could fulfill that wish.

Tears brimmed at the edges of Johnathan's eyes, a painful lump formed in his throat, and his blood began to boil with rage and magic. Embers flew from his fingertips and into Walter's eyes. The older man howled in pain, staggering back while trying to brush the searing heat out with his palm.

Johnathan stood up, his grip bone-crushingly tight on the broken hammer handle. Every part of his body was shaking anxiously for the final blow to be struck. It was hard, so very hard, to even take a step towards the distracted man.

He had killed quite a few innocent people on his journey to become King. Even his own brother, his very last blood-relative, fell by his hand and he had not hesitated nor felt any remorse for doing so. Yet now, when Death demanded for one of their soul's, he was hesitant and questioned himself.

Perhaps if he just closed his eyes it wouldn't be so bad...

A loud cry flew from Johnathan's mouth as he charged Walter, closing his eyes just as he plunged the broken handle forward.

He felt the make-shift weapon force its way through the man's skin, fat, muscle and guts. It made a sick sound that almost drowned out the old soldier's pained grunt. Blood crept down the handle before kissing Johnathan's fingers. The warm substance sent a shiver up his spine, but whether it was from delight or disgust he could not tell.

The Crawler screamed in agony as it shared its host's pain and death, but the young man did not hear it. Nor did he see the Darkness start to retreat from Bowerstone like rats scattering from an intruder. He was too focused on making sure Walter did not fall. Throughout his journeys, Johnathan had been able to carry a hammer, which weighed more than most people, with ease. Now, as he slowly lowered his mentor's body down, his arms felt like they would crumble for being so weak.

Walter's breathing was raspy and slow; the kind of breath only the dying make. Johnathan held onto the older man as if it were the only thing keeping him alive. "I'm sorry," the young man managed to choke out, doing his best to hold back the tears.

"You took away the darkness," Walter rasped. Every word sounded weaker than the last. "It's been inside me all this time, but it's light now." The glimmer in his eyes smiled for his weakening mouth. "I can see the sky and it's light."

The young King did not dare to look at the sky, to see its light banish the remaining Darkness from Albion. He was terrified Walter would disappear if he even glanced in another direction.

A weak cough was managed by the soldier, blood coming out from his lips and staining his grey mustache. "I don't think I can fight anymore..."

Those words sent a jolt of pain in the King's gut as he tried to give the man a reassuring smile, "It's all over Walter. We won. We beat it together."

"Do you remember the stories I'd tell you when you were a child? 'There was a great Queen once, the mightiest Hero of them all.' Remember what you would say?"

Johnathan did not want to think about his childhood. About how secure and happy it had been under the protection of Mother and the teachings of Walter. His world was not like that now; it was a dark, frightening place with no safe havens. The only way to survive was to be the toughest, smartest, and most feared thing alive.

As he stared down at the waiting Walter, the young King licked his lips nervously. Just this once, he would dive back into those memories.

"'Teach me to be a Hero'."

With his final breath, Walter forced out, "You've done me proud. You've always done me proud." His eyelids fell over the soulless eyes and his hand fell limply to the hard floor. No more breath came out of his nostrils or into his mouth. Blood slowed to a halt in his veins and the pumping heart stopped.

Walter was dead.

Johnathan did not even notice the comforting hand on his shoulder as his body heaved out broken sobs. He did, however, notice the sun's light; the light that poured across the earth in a wave of victory.

The illumination did not move the King nor held any significance to him. His mind and soul had once been bright from the light of family and friends; but as their light faded, the shadows of the real world crept inside. He had been terrified of this darkness at first; but like eyes, he had accepted it and even lived by it.

* * *

It took the sculptor a few days to finish the statue. During those days, Albion's people were in celebration and grief. Families mourned their dead by day and celebrated being alive by night. The pubs were full of drunkards and slurred songs, while the food vendors had to close their stalls from the lack of supplies.

While the country celebrated, Johnathan sulked in his bedroom, his only company being Rascal. The young King had refused to eat or drink anything after Walter had died in his arms. Though the entire castle was alive with drinking and music, he could not find the motivation to move himself. He just lay on the floor, staring at the ceiling as he wallowed in dark thoughts.

This depression was far worse than his previous ones, for no hint of rage stirred within him this time. When his parents had died, he had grown angry at the doctor for not saving them and had even tried to bite his leg. When Elise had died, he had had Logan executed once the power had been given to him. Now Walter was gone, but there was no one to blame or get mad at since the Crawler had died with the mentor.

Rascal's cold wet nose was shoved onto Johnathan's cheek. The man sneered and waved the animal away. Again, the dog started probing its nose onto its master's body.

"Stop it Rascal," Johnathan said in an annoyed tone at first, but repeated the command in a firmer tone when the dog refused to stop. The dog ceased long enough for Johnathan to let out a sigh of relief before it licked his face. "I SAID 'STOP IT'!" He bellowed before sitting up to punch the retreating animal. Rascal let out a pitiful whine when its master's fist collided with its hind leg. This time, the dog did not bother its master and instead limped to its little bed.

Jubilant cheers and shrieks had finally pierced the closed doors and made it to the King's ears. Their celebration made him sick. Were they oblivious of all the lives that had been lost? Were they that uncaring of the fall of Sir Walter Beck?

No, they were well aware that precious lives were lost. They were just glad that it hadn't been themselves who had died. They were _happy _that Walter had died.

Hatred flipped the motivational switch inside of Johnathan's brain. He hadn't even realized he was storming through the castle's corridor's until a male servant bumped into him.

"Oh, woops," the man slurred, doing his best to not fall over. "Pardon me, your...Majesty," he giggled, the ale and food apparent on his breath.

Johnathan hated how the man smiled and stumbled clumsily. How dare the man be in such a gay mood! The King grabbed him by the collar of his clothes and rammed him against the wall with an angry roar. Immediately, the servant's smile melted to an expression of terror; but even that became distorted as the King's hard knuckles crashed against his face repeatedly. The assault did not stop until some guards had pulled Johnathan off.

The entire right side of the servant's face was broken and covered in blood. Dark bruises began to form on the beaten and swelling skin. He even started to spit up mouthfuls of blood and teeth onto the carpeted floor. The guards did not even glance at the attacker before aiding the servant. They knew better than to question their king.

For the moment, Johnathan felt satisfied. The jubilant mood had been depleted thanks to him. It made him more smug than happy.

* * *

The white statue looked an awful lot like Walter. It made all sorts of memories come flooding back; most of which Johnathan did not even want to remember. That rage-less depression returned as he stared at the ground that hid Walter's body six feet below the surface. In his own world, there was silence. A dark silence, but it was comforting in this exhausting depression.

"I think old Walter would have liked it out here," Ben's optimistic voice cut through the wall of memories. "He was always a fan of looking...tall, and, um, stoney." His voice was irritating for the moment. If only the world could be as quiet as his mind right now.

Again, the blonde soldier's voice pierced through his concentration, making the King irritated. "Shut up Ben," Johnathan growled. Of course, not even that stopped the soldier from rambling a while longer, but he could not find the energy to do anything about it a second time. He hadn't even noticed that Theresa had frozen time to speak with him until she had cleared her throat.

He mumbled an apology before staring blankly at her nose, her words never reaching his ears. The only thing he did to hint that he was alive was by asking, "Aren't you going to tell me my future?" He didn't care about his future; he just felt like he should ask her something, anything to show that he was alive.

"The future will reveal itself when it is ready to do so," Theresa answered as soon as the question left his lips.

And then, she was gone.

The ceremonial gunshots continued to fire, their sound making the King jump with a numb surprise. The final light that could have saved Johnathan from clinging to the darkness had been blown out.

* * *

Johnathan went into the War Room hours after the funeral. In his hands was a half empty bottle of alcohol. He was not sure what kind it was, but he did not care. The alcohol was doing very little in improving his mood anyway. If only he had better company than just the staff and Rascal.

As he went by a desk, an unopened letter caught his eye. The paper looked smooth and clean, unlike some of the other written requests that had been sent to him by those of the lower class. On the back was an unbroken wax seal, bearing Reaver's symbol in its hardened gold form. With unexpected eagerness, the King broke the seal and yanked the letter from the envelope.

Its contents, however, were very disappointing.

_Note for a monarch:_

_Greetings Your Majesty! I do hope your battle against the dark forces, so intent on destroying our way of life, went well. It would be such a disappointment to find you all dead when I return; for yes, I must take my leave now and attend to a matter of a somewhat personal nature. _

_It is a regular appointment of mine. One that grows more tiresome with every passing year. Perhaps I will tell you more about it one day._

_Until then, allow to me to say that it has been a privilege to serve you. And I eagerly anticipate doing so again in the near future._

_Tatty-bye!_

_Your friend and loyal attendant,_

_Reaver_

The rich bastard had not been in the war, which had gone unnoticed by Johnathan until now. Not only did Reaver, a master shooter, not participate in the battle but he had fled! It would not be surprising if he had left Albion completely to take refuge in some other country!

His fist made the expensive paper crinkle and tear, the words now becoming unreadable.

Reaver will pay for his cowardice!


End file.
